Devil's Paw Page 7

  “Life is still hard, though. We are discouraged from any artistic expression, as we have no understanding of basic beauty and form. No painting, no poetry, no singing.” A sly little smile crossed her face. “Although in private, many of us flout the rules.”

  The whole thing made me sad. I was glad I’d managed to get her out of there, give her a chance at a new life, but there were so many still in Hel. I yearned to save them all, but how? There was no possible way to change elven society. The best I could do was help Nyalla, protect her, and encourage her to make the most of her life.

  “Well, your voice is beautiful — a charming human voice with nice range. Humans value distinctive inflection and individual expression in their arts.”

  Her nose wrinkled, and her eyes came up to meet mine. “That doesn’t sound very beautiful. Should not those who practice the arts strive for perfection?”

  I held out a roll of streamers and she hesitated a brief moment before taking it. “If you’re an angel, then yes,” I told her. “Elves desperately try to model themselves after the angels. Annoys the piss out of me. Angels are bad enough, wannabe angels are downright painful to be around.”

  I saw a smile lurk at the corner of her lips before she turned to tape another streamer. “You’re not an elf; you’re a human,” I continued. “In my mind, that’s a superior being. Not some pansy–ass fake angel.”

  “So if the elves model themselves after angels, do humans model themselves after demons?” she asked innocently. It was a good thing she wasn’t facing me to see the shocked look on my face. “Demons value emotion and sensation above balance and perfection of order. Are you saying that humans do too?”

  “Oh my,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice calm. “Don’t ever say that to an angel.”

  The future of the human race was in a precarious enough position without those assholes thinking they had a bunch of demon groupies on their hands. I could just see the Ruling Council now. There would be an order out for extinction before lunch was on the table.

  “Yes, humans value emotion and sensation,” I told her, trying to keep the visions of Armageddon from my mind. “But they also enjoy balance and strive for their own definition of perfection.”

  She turned to face me again. “Do you like elven music?”

  “Many of us find elven songs to be technically beautiful but somewhat cold in execution.”

  Nyalla smiled, her posture relaxing fully. “Me too,” she said softly, as if she were afraid to admit it.

  Fucking elves. I swear if I ever managed to lay a hand on Aelswith, I was going to pop his head off his neck.

  “I was just wondering what you were singing when I was in the kitchen. I’ve never heard it before.” I commented, happy to see her looking more like Wyatt’s sister and less like a cornered animal.

  Nyalla looked puzzled as she climbed down from her chair. “Surely you have. It is the Exodus — one of the grand epics. The elves sing it at all their festivals and sometimes at small gatherings.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t remembered hearing it before, but then again, I usually wasn’t paying much attention to their song lyrics with all the food, drink, and other entertainment offered.

  “It is very long; a historical record of elven society before their home planet met its end. The beginning is beautiful — all about the magical place where life first began.”

  “But you were singing of loss, of an impossible choice, and devouring.” I winced at the last word, remembering Gregory’s insistence on keeping my unsavory habit under wraps.

  “A devouring sun,” Nyalla corrected. “Their planet was at the end, and the angels gave them a choice — to share Earth with the humans, share Hel with dwarves and goblins, or share Aerie with the other Fae races.” Nyalla’s mouth quirked up in a charming lopsided grin. “Elves are not good at sharing. There was no good choice as far as they were concerned.”

  I was astounded. “Why would they come to Hel? That had to have been the worst of all choices.”

  Nyalla shook her head and unrolled another length of red streamer. “Aerie was the worst choice. Elves really do not get along with fairies, pixies, water sprites, nymphs, or other fae. You should hear the songs they sing of them; they are very derogatory. They do not like dwarves, goblins, trolls, or the soil races either, but they all keep their distance and respect boundaries.”

  All this confirmed what I’d thought — that elves just didn’t get along with anybody. Still, demons?

  “Why Hel? Why not earth with the humans? They seem rather fond of humans, even if they’re high–handed in their dealings with them.”

  Nyalla shot me a wry look before turning her back to tape the streamer. “And be under the constant thumb of the angels? When the war happened, they made their choice — the left hand over the right. Angels of Chaos over Angels of Order.” She spun about to look at me, her eyes sweeping down my form with a perplexed frown. “Demons no longer seem to be the Angels of Chaos from legends, though. You have. . . changed.”

  “Devolved” was the word Gregory used. “The angels have changed too,” I protested.

  She nodded. “According to the epics, they became more rigid and unbending during the war, that’s why the elves made the choice they did.” Her eyes focused far away, with a haunted look. “And the elves changed too. They bear only slight resemblance to the wise, gracious creatures of the sagas.”

  I hated to see that look in her eyes. “Well, fuck the elves. And fuck the angels, too.”

  She grinned, eyes darting back to me before turning to her decorations. “I am not particularly interested in having sexual relations with either elves or angels,” she giggled.

  “Shit, I hope not! That’s just gross!”

  I was gratified to hear even more giggles. She faced me again, her hand covering her mouth, eyes dancing. I smiled at her, feeling oddly protective toward this girl. It wasn’t just that she was Wyatt’s sister, it was something else. I liked her. I cared about what happened to her. I wanted her to be happy — to see her eyes light up like this more often.

  As if reading my mind, a more serious look swept over her face. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, and her eyes searched mine, as if she were trying to decide something.

  “Do not trust the elves, Sam,” she said, the informality of my name awkward on her tongue. “I have heard things, disturbing bits of information. There are some that mean to move against the demons.”

  I laughed. “One kingdom can’t do shit against the demons, and elves would rather poke their eyes out than join together in any sort of strategic move. It’s just talk, Nyalla. We have all sorts of complicated alliances with the elves. They need us far more than we need them.”

  She shook her head, approaching me and laying a tentative hand on my arm. “The elves are afraid of what the demons are becoming, and they seek a means with which they can control you.”

  She tugged on my arm, her expression urgent. “If what I overheard is true, one kingdom can control all of Hel. They plan to expand their reach with a new kind of magic.”

  Elves were more organized and better planners than demons, but they had enough on their plate trying to jockey for position amongst themselves. I couldn’t see them ever bothering with us, let alone this farfetched idea that they would conquer us. And elven magic only went so far against demons. It was terribly ineffective against the top tiers of our hierarchy. Even the most skilled sorcerer lacked the ‘umph’ to fuel their spells to the degree needed to bring down a truly powerful demon.

  “Some say they plan to eventually cross the gates,” she continued. “To expand their reach to here. When Aaru falls, they’ll make their move.”

  I wasn’t sure what drunken elf conversations she’d overheard, but Aaru was not likely to fall. If we couldn’t do it in the demon wars, then who would? I thought of Gregory with that cold anger of his that frightened me so, swinging his sword against anyone who would dare attack his heaven. Aaru would never fall as long a
s he lived. And the elves would never come to earth.

  “Nyalla, the elves swore long ago they would never cross the gates, that they would never step foot in the land of the humans. Millions of years they’ve held fast to their vow. They’re like angels that way too — once they’ve sworn something, they never retract. Never.”

  Nyalla raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking far older than her nineteen years. “Never is a long time. Circumstances change, and individuals sometimes find that they do things they swore never to do.”

  I opened my mouth to protest and again thought of Gregory. I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things, he’d once told me. And here we were, in some strange relationship together — friendship, and a whole lot more. I doubt that was what he’d had in mind when he’d agreed to a complete split between our races two and a half million years ago. Never was indeed a long time.

  Nyalla removed her hand from my arm, and with a shy smile, turned to pick up another roll of streamers.

  “Anyhow, here is the end of the song:

  The heavens shook with grief

  Rent asunder with jagged rift

  The right and left hand removed from their Source

  Violence wrought

  Each hand to die, ruined without its pair

  As the goddess wept tears of blood.

  I left the girl to her song and returned to my veggie trays, unable to shake the sorrow in my heart. The demons had changed — and not in a good way. We were devolving, losing what we’d been and becoming something horrible. The angels saw our plight and mocked us, feeling it was punishment for our sins. And if Nyalla was right, the elves, once sympathetic to our cause, now feared us enough that they planned offensive action. My people were on a downward–sliding evolutionary slope that would end when we were no more than creatures of base instinct. All because of a war so long ago, way before my birth.

  Could we ever find our way, return to the angels that we’d once been? I sliced carrots, my mind clouded with thoughts of demons as animalistic monsters, the angelic race dying out due to their stubborn pride, the elves isolated bigots who preyed upon other races. Was there any hope that this story of so many races would have a happy ending?

  We’d barely finished food prep and decorations before people started to arrive. Amber’s plane had been delayed, so there was a celebratory group already half drunk at my house to meet Wyatt when he returned from the airport with her. I’d invited Michelle and Candy, as well as some of his gaming friends. Nyalla stiffened beside me as they walked into the room. I held my breath.

  “She looks like an elf,” the girl hissed.

  She did. A demon adaptation hid the telltale pointed ears, but Amber’s face was oddly symmetrical, her cobalt–blue eyes large, almond–shaped and slanted upward at the edges. Even her deportment was elf–like. She walked in with light grace, each step a ballet. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on Nyalla. She’d taken two steps toward us before her sister spun on her heels and dashed into the kitchen.

  “Give her a moment,” I told Amber. “She’ll come around.” Or maybe not.

  The half–elf chewed her lip, a frown creasing between her brows. A faint curl of pheromone snaked from her — proof of her succubus half. It made her all the more attractive. No wonder Nyalla was resentful. It wasn’t just the circumstances of Amber’s childhood — the childhood that should have belonged to the human girl, it was the daunting perfection of this elf/demon hybrid. She had an unobtainable, ethereal look with her golden hair and flawless, creamy complexion. Grace, beauty, brains, and that succubus sexual lure — Amber was the kind of perfect girl everyone wanted to hate. That she was friendly and approachable made the bite of envy even sharper.

  “Should I go in and talk to her?” Wyatt asked, casting a worried glance toward the kitchen.

  “No. I’ve got a better idea.” I walked to Candy and said a few quick words, grinning as she made her way to the kitchen. If anyone could snap Nyalla out of her sulk, it would be my werewolf friend.

  Sure enough, I soon heard giggles coming from the kitchen, and less than ten minutes later, the pair appeared, arm–in–arm with half–empty glasses. I watched as Candy introduced the girl to Michelle, and she was soon ensconced in a welcoming group, all trying to teach her various words and communicate via gestures. By the time we sang Happy Birthday, and Wyatt blew out the candles on his cake, Nyalla looked flushed with happiness, or possibly with wine.

  “Thank you for taking care of her today while I went to the airport.” Wyatt’s breath stirred the hair around my ears and sent a happy tingle down my spine.

  “What, no ‘thank you’ for the party?” I teased. Most of our guests had left, and I had been longing for a lovely evening, just Wyatt and I alone in my comfy bed.

  “Thank you for that, too.” His hand moved my hair aside, and his lips traced a feather–light line down my neck. Yes, it was definitely time for our guests to hit the road.

  “But I especially appreciate your fussing over Nyalla, making sure she didn’t feel out of place.” His mouth moved to that sweet spot where my neck joins my shoulder, kissing and licking. Everyone needed to leave right now, or I was going to wind up a puddle on the floor. Hopefully a naked puddle on the floor with Wyatt on top of me.

  “I’m going to take her to my house tonight and show her the language software I bought. I moved some stuff out of the other bedroom and set it up for her. We’ll bond, do some brother/sister stuff.”

  What? My melting stopped. No! Brother/sister bonding? Not Wyatt/Sam bonding? I swallowed hard, pushing down my disappointment. Our intimate moments seemed to be getting farther and farther apart. I know that was normal with human relationships, but I’d thought somehow Wyatt and I would be on fire for each other forever, or at least until he reached an advanced elderly age when pharmaceutical remedies were a necessary daily supplement.

  “That sounds wonderful.” My voice choked with the lie. “I think she’ll really enjoy that.”

  Wyatt pulled me to him for a frustratingly tempting kiss, then pulled back to ruffle my hair. “I knew you’d understand.”

  I did understand. But that didn’t mean I liked it. This sister stuff was putting a cramp in my love life — first Amber with her “half the universe is gunning for me” genetic problem, then helpless Nyalla. When would Wyatt’s attention turn back to me? Would his attention turn back to me? I shook my head, feeling guilty for my thoughts. I was being a selfish bitch. One of the things I adored about Wyatt was his giving nature. This was part of who he was. The human I loved was excited to have his sisters with him, to spend some precious time with them. If I really cared about him, I’d just have to learn to share, and not begrudge others his love and attention.

  “She’s a nice girl, Wyatt. I think she’s going to be okay. Take as much time as you want to connect with her. You’ve both got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

  His smile made my day. “I love you.”

  He kissed me, and I got the feeling that my words and actions over the last two days had done more to repair the rent in our relationship than any amount of soup kitchen and nursing home volunteer work could do.

  Slowly the party guests headed home, and the only people left in my house were a sexually frustrated imp, two humans, and an elf/demon hybrid. Amber stayed her distance, sending friendly, hopeful glances at her sister. Nyalla ignored her, turning her back to pick at a tray of crab puffs.

  “Okay, this is bullshit.” I strode over and grabbed Nyalla by the arm. “Snap out of it. This is your sister, Amber. She’s very nice, and she wants to meet you.” I dragged the unwilling girl toward her sister and yanked her until she was only three feet from the other woman.

  “Hi.” Amber’s voice was soft and sweet, hesitant in a charming way. “I’m so glad to meet you. I want to take you out shopping, do some girl stuff with you — the kind of thing Wyatt wouldn’t be good at. We’ll get you some new clothes, have a spa day. It’ll be fun.”

  I translated a
nd saw Nyalla’s head raise with interest when I mentioned clothes. She was wearing some borrowed items of mine, and although I was fairly slim, the outfits hung loose on her thin frame. For the first time, she truly examined the other girl, from the top of her golden head to the tip of her peep–toe pumps.

  “You don’t have many friends yet,” I added, trying to tip things in Amber’s favor. “Wyatt’s great, but he’s a guy. It would be a good thing for you to have another female to spend time with.”

  “What about that Candy woman? Or Michelle?”

  “Candy is a werewolf, and she’s not a young girl. I’ll arrange for you to spend some time with Michelle, but Amber is the same age as you and can give you a good idea of what life is like for a girl your age here.”

  Nyalla looked skeptical. Once again, her eyes roamed over Amber, and she self–consciously reached up to tuck a loose hair back into her single braid, smoothing it down.

  “Give it a shot,” I continued. “And if you hate her guts, well, she’s away at college most of the year anyway. You can pretend you didn’t get her texts, or couldn’t figure out the Facebook app or something.”

  Nyalla frowned. “She is so beautiful. I bet she has never had buvfish stuck in her teeth or sweat stains on her bodice wrap.”

  I nodded my head. “Probably not. But she does get pissed off and blow up trees on occasion.” I put an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Look, I’ve got a sister too. Leethu is gorgeous. When she’s around, I could be a fucking cocktail napkin for all anyone cares. It gets old, but Leethu is cool. She’s fun, and I really like having her visit me. Maybe not living in my house for weeks, or anything, but a day here and there. Give it a shot. You need to start making friends, and here’s your first chance.”

  “All right.” Nyalla reached out and took Amber’s hand in an awkward handshake she’d just learned this morning. “I will buy clothes and take a spa bath with her.”